ACT 38: Knight and Date
by Galaxy1001D
Summary: Roger's search for the mysterious Roland Knight will have to wait while he manages his relationship with Dorothy. THE BIG O: SEASON THREE
1. Just Testing

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 38

KNIGHT AND DATE

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Cast in the name of God!_

**Negotiator**

_Ye not the guilty!_

**Android**

_We have come to terms!_

**Butler**

_Big-O!_

**Officer**

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! -O! -O! Big-O!_

_Chapter One: Just Testing_

_My name is Roger Smith; I perform a necessary job here in the city of Amnesia.__ This city, Paradigm City is a city without Memory. One day forty years ago everyone in the city forgot everything that happened before that day. __In the chaos that followed, the Paradigm Company emerged as the dominant power, as both God and State. __The city became divided between the rich and the poor, but who divided us this way? Who decided which person would be a have, and which would be a have-not?_

Paradigm City was mess. Crumbling buildings and damaged skyscrapers filled the dystopian metropolis. The newer buildings tended to be clustered in areas covered by titanic geodesic domes, but these days those domes were shattered open like eggshells. Inside one of the shattered domes, a long black Cadillac a travelled down a boulevard surrounded by tall buildings.

"Roger, I don't understand why you're looking for this man," the sullen teenage girl announced stiffly from the passenger seat. The petite teenager was dressed in a reddish black dress that had a white ruffled collar and formal white cuffs. A set of black stockings and shiny black shoes completed her ensemble. Her red pageboy haircut was immaculate, her bangs broken by a black barrette. Her skin was alabaster white, her features were dainty and her dark violet eyes were as mysterious as they were innocent. Her calm high pitched voice as was as tranquil as a still life painting. "He's very likely been dead for a very long time. What do you stand to gain by looking for someone who might no longer exist? Why is he so important anyway?"

"He was the first ruler of Paradigm City, the power behind the throne," Roger told her as they drove through the damaged streets of Paradigm City. Roger Smith was a young man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His white shirt was nearly hidden by the double breasted polo jacket he wore, but his black dress slacks and matching shoes were visible. A black tie bisected by a gray stripe was knotted around his throat. His eyes were hidden behind opaque sunglasses. Roger's broad shoulders and trim waist indicated both strength and agility. His jet-black hair, strong jaw and high cheekbones on his boyish face combined with his long legs made him the definition of 'tall, dark, and handsome'.

"He might be the only one alive who has practical experience rebuilding a civilization from the ashes," Roger explained. "Look around you. The city is a mess. The infrastructure has been torn apart and the executives of Paradigm are more corrupt than ever. Something has got to be done soon, or the city will destroy itself. After Alex Rosewater and Jason Beck screwed the pooch, there's no way a two bit gangster like Enoch Browning can put this city back together, even if we trusted him, which we don't," he added bitterly.

"I thought you convinced him that he couldn't live without you?" she debated without taking her eyes off the street ahead. "Doesn't he have to obey you now?"

"You mean when I convinced him that every rogue megadeus that comes out of the desert goes after the Paradigm chairman?" Roger smirked. "That's a temporary fix. Number One, we both know that isn't true. Number Two, blackmail is never a long term solution, particularly if you keep squeezing the target."

"Why not?"

"Because blackmailers always make deadly enemies out of those they extort," Roger explained. "When I was working homicide in the Military Police, I can't tell you how many murder victims ended up being blackmailers. It's the inevitable reversal: Sooner or later the worm _must_ turn. Nucky won't stay cowed forever; we need a plan before he strikes back. Overthrowing him shouldn't be too hard, but if we wipe out the leadership of the Paradigm Company, what are we going to replace it with?"

"And how does Roland Knight help?"

"He and Gordon Rosewater created the civilization you see today," Roger gestured at the tottering buildings lining the street. "If we can find him maybe he can help us put things back on track after we do a little housecleaning. If he's willing he could be the next Paradigm chairman. He should be in his sixties by now so we shouldn't have to put up with him very long, just long enough for things to get back to normal."

"And why should we trust him?" Dorothy asked as Roger's long black Cadillac maneuvered its way around a parked truck and continued on its way. "Assuming he's still alive of course."

Roger didn't have an answer for that one.

"Roger, I get the impression that you have a different reason for searching for this man," Dorothy told him, "one that you're not sharing with me for some reason."

Roger sighed as they stopped at a traffic light. He took off his sunglasses and looked at the girl in the passenger seat. "You know I hadn't realized it, but you're right," he admitted. "Restoring law and order isn't the only reason I'm looking for him. I also want to know about my Memories."

"I thought that leaving Memories alone when they come up was the key to a happy life," Dorothy argued calmly. "You told me it was Rule Number One."

"I said that huh?" he blushed. "I didn't think you remembered that."

A quiet electronic whir could be heard as she stiffly turned her head to face him. "You know what they say, Roger. An android never forgets."

"They did forty years ago," Roger murmured as he put his sunglasses back on. "That's why I want to talk to Roland Knight. Gordon Rosewater had _his_ Memories, at least before he went senile or suffered a stroke or whatever happened to him. I'm betting Roland Knight still does too."

"That would explain why he's in hiding," Dorothy said as the traffic light turned green and the car moved forward again. "Those who are known to possess Memories don't seem to live very long. Roger, it seems to me that seeking him out will only place him in unnecessary danger. Remember what happened to Roscoe Fitzgerald."

"Roscoe Fitzgerald," Roger repeated absently while steering his car through the damaged streets of the city. The late Roscoe Fitzgerald had secretly been an android and was formerly an executive in the Paradigm Corporation and a senator in the city government. He had kept his memories from before whatever erased the past and had experienced political and economic power that no android had ever possessed. He had even gotten married and grown old with a human… an android marrying a human?

Was it even possible? During the brief time he had known the Fitzgeralds, Roger had observed the love and devotion Roscoe's wife Kelly had for him, right up to the tears she shed when he was assassinated. It was obvious that she wouldn't trade her husband for anyone else in the world, even though he wasn't human.

Roger looked at the pale young girl sitting in the passenger seat at his right. Could Dorothy make _her_ husband just as smitten and devoted? Would a relationship with an android girl work? Could she truly make him happy?

At the next stoplight he did something impulsive. "Hey, Dorothy, look at me," he muttered as he removed his sunglasses. When she turned and cocked her head in his direction he leaned in and kissed her. It was a chaste kiss. He didn't smash his face into hers, he gently teased her lips and she teased his right back. He pulled back when he heard the tiniest gasp of a feminine sigh. Was the kiss that good? Dorothy was having an emotional reaction!

So was Roger. Wow. How long had it been since he'd been with a woman anyway? A single chaste kiss and Roger's motor was running like he was in a race!

Dorothy opened her eyes and looked away. "You're a louse Roger Smith," she declared with a hint of resentment in her voice. She was getting better at expressing herself.

"Sorry," he blushed as he donned his sunglasses and stepped on the gas pedal again. "Just testing."

"Testing to see how big a louse you can be?" she asked as she still gave him the back of her head.

"Something like that," he mumbled. Now Roger was blushing so furiously his cheeks burned. How could he admit that he wasn't any better at recognizing his real feelings than an android? It was sad. He was thirty-five and she was two, and she was more emotionally mature than he was! "Look, I'm sorry," he stammered and shook his head before they were forced to stop for the construction workers in the street. "I was out of line, but you were kissing me back. I shouldn't have… Hey, are you breathing?"

Dorothy's mechanical nature was apparent when her head snapped to the left to face him. "No, I don't have to breathe. You know that. I only breathe when I speak."

"I could see your chest going up and down," he insisted.

"Does a gentleman make it a habit to steal a kiss and stare at a girl's chest?"

"No, I just noticed that's all," he replied. "You're actually breathing and your frown looks so genuine, so lifelike. I can even detect a _teensy_ bit of feeling in your voice. Are you okay? What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into _you_?" she retorted. "_I_ didn't steal a kiss and stare at a girl's chest."

"Dorothy, I know darn well that you have emotions but you usually have such incredible control over your body's reactions I never get to see them," he insisted, "but for some reason you don't seem to be able to keep it all inside like you normally do. I don't mind but I _am_ curious. Why is that? What's changed?" When she didn't respond he continued. "You know I'm just going to ask Norman when we get home."

Dorothy looked away as their car edged around the construction workers. "It's residual programming," she finally admitted, "nothing to get concerned about."

"I'm not concerned, I'm delighted," he smiled as he put his sunglasses back on. "You don't have to hide the fact there's a real woman in there; I already know, but it's nice to see you reaffirm it once in a while."

With a quick jerk of her head she turned to face him again. The frown on her pale youthful face was no longer subtle. "May I see your sunglasses Roger?" she asked as she plucked them off his face.

"Well actually…"

She slapped the right side of his face with a quick flick of the wrist. The car jerked to the left before Roger regained control of it. Wincing at the stinging sensation on his cheek (and the whiplash he gave himself when she slapped him) he pulled over to the curb and parked the car.

"You've got something on your face Roger Smith," she sneered. The frown wasn't subtle at all. Only the cold stilted quality of her soft voice revealed that she was an android, and that kind of voice was perfect for conveying barely controlled anger. She tossed his sunglasses into his lap. "There's no need to drive me to my Rossum Evaluation, I can walk the rest of the way." With that parting remark, she exited the car, slammed the door and strode purposefully down the sidewalk. "It's only a block or two more," she called over her shoulder.

"Wait!" Roger called. "Dorothy! Swell," he muttered under his breath.

When Dorothy turned the corner she was joined by a tall buxom blonde wearing a pink double-breasted raincoat. "Hey!" the honey haired enchantress yelped as her long shapely legs matched Dorothy's quickstep. "Dorothy! It's me! Don't try to run away! I've got a bone to pick with you!"

"What do you want Angel?" Dorothy replied calmly without slowing her pace. "I have a doctor's appointment. I'm getting my Rossum Evaluation done today."

"This is more important!" the beautiful young woman known as 'Angel' snapped. "You were supposed to make Roger forget about me and looking for lost Memories but you dropped the ball, Dorothy! Where do you get off on this 'hard to get' stuff anyway? Your primary job is protecting Roger from himself and keeping him sane!"

"I wasn't aware that maintaining Roger's sanity was part of my job description," the little redhead retorted, "nor was protecting him ever mentioned."

"Consider yourself informed!" Angel growled. "You know how confused Roger is right now; you're supposed to be stabilizing him! What would happen to the city if he lost his mind? I thought you loved him!"

"I do," Dorothy admitted coldly as they reached the opposite sidewalk. "I have to love him. I have no choice."

"Then prove it by knocking off all this 'hard to get' stuff!" Angel ordered. "This 'I'm only an android' nonsense will drive him nuts, and he's halfway there to start with!"

"I _am_ only an android," Dorothy replied as they strode quickly up the block. "I'm only a pale imitation of that girl who died forty years ago, that girl in Roger's Memories. No matter how much I want to be, I can't be her. Roger would be better off with a woman who could make him truly happy."

"_You're_ the only one who has a chance of that!" Angel barked. "Can't you see that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look, it's just healthier for everybody if Roger leaves the past in the past okay?" Angel growled as she put a cigarette in her mouth and lit up. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took her several tries.

"I know I'm only an android but I thought that smoking wasn't healthy for humans," Dorothy observed drily.

Angel choked angrily before flicking her cigarette into the street in frustration.

"You've got to make him stop looking for Roland Knight! Neither of you realize this but there are people who will stop at nothing to keep Roger from finding him! If you don't back off they'll try to kill you!"

"What do you mean?" Dorothy asked as they stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change so they could cross the street. "_Who_ will try to kill us?"

"It doesn't matter. They'll stop at nothing to keep Roger from finding him and they won't hesitate to use force!" Angel hissed. "Don't ask me any more, I can't elaborate any further. Too much is at stake."

"Can't or won't?" Dorothy retorted with uncanny calm. "No offense Angel, but your information hasn't always been pinpoint accurate in the past."

"Oh, you're calling me a liar now?" Angel snapped.

"You told us that Schwartzwald was dead," Dorothy continued. "Do you remember? That deranged killer formerly known as Michael Seebach, the one who somehow became the domineus of Big Duo? You said that he was dead, when in fact your colleagues in the Union had captured him. You told us he was dead to throw Roger off the trail."

"I don't work for the Union anymore!" Angel spat.

"I understand," Dorothy said matter-of-factly as if she was discussing the weather. "You're ashamed of your association with them and what they had you do. You don't want to talk about them because a part of you still thinks of them as your people. That's all right. We haven't heard anything out of them for several months. You don't have to say anything."

"I didn't say the Union was involved!"

"I know," Dorothy said. "You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to."

"I don't!"

"Before we change the subject, what are they up to right now?"

"They're trying some crazy experiment, the same one that Gordon tried only it can't possibly work!" Angel gasped as she blinked in realization of her slip. "I've said too much. I've got to go." She turned and walked away as quickly as her high heels would allow her.

"Wait. Angel," Dorothy called after her without raising her voice. "What crazy experiment? Are they the same people who are trying to stop us?"

"Good luck on your Rossum Evaluation!" Angel called over her shoulder and waved. "Be seeing you!"

From a certain angle, Dorothy's neutral expression looked like a frown. She looked both ways and walked across the street.

She only had another block to go before she turned a corner and arrived at the entrance to the Baxter Building. Her appointment was on the eighth floor. The last time she had scheduled a Rossum Evaluation she had been kidnapped by the new Paradigm Chairman. Hopefully she'd be able to get her evaluation done without any trouble this time. The Rossum Evaluation was the final step for an android to be legally recognized as a person and not a thing.

At that moment Dorothy was being watched. She had no idea that she was in the crosshairs of a hunched figure on the rooftop of the building across the street. He stared at her through the scope of his high-powered rifle and grunted in frustration. "I don't see Roger Smith," he whispered. "I'll have to wait until they're together."

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: A Friendly Ear_


	2. A Friendly Ear

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 38

KNIGHT AND DATE

_Chapter Two: A Friendly Ear _

_This city, Paradigm City, is a city without Memory; some would say a city without sanity. How can we know who's truly sane when none of us can remember who we really are? Is there anybody who's really qualified to help us?_

In a waiting room on the eighth floor of the Baxter Building a nurse ushered Dorothy Wayneright into a room with comfortable chairs and a couch. A burly old man wearing a cloth hemispherical cap known as a yarmulke looked at her through tinted eyeglasses and smiled through his thick grayish brown beard. "Miss Wayneright, good to see you again," his deep voice rumbled as he stepped forward and shook her hand. "We've met, but we've never been formally introduced. Roger's told me so much about you that I feel I already know you. I'm Doctor Earhart. I'll be your evaluator today."

"It's you," she said as she examined him with scientific detachment. "Roger's informant. The man he calls 'Big Ear'. What are you doing here?"

"I told you. I'm your evaluator. This is my job. I really _am_ a psychologist," he assured her. "I can hardly put 'informant' on my tax returns." He gestured to a chair. "Now then Miss Wayneright, if you'll have a seat we can get started."

"No thank you," she said as she stood impassively in the doorway. "I don't think I can be open with you. You're Roger's informant. Anything I tell you will be passed on to him."

"I assure you Miss Wayneright, as a psychologist I am required by law to protect any information you wish to divulge to me," he informed her. "If I were to reveal any information you entrusted me with I would be risking my medical license."

"Assuming I pass the Rossum Evaluation and am legally considered to be a person," Dorothy finished, "otherwise my rights don't matter."

"Yes, and since we both know that you should pass with flying colors we might as well begin," he gestured to the chair again. "Unless you'd rather take the couch?"

"I still think that Roger will find out personal things that do not concern him," she insisted with a hint of stubbornness.

"You know, Miss Wayneright, I've known your friend Roger for a long time, but he never came to me for therapy," Big Ear shrugged, "not in an official capacity at least. I don't even think he knows this is my day job."

"What are you saying?"

"As a psychologist I'm legally bound to protect your secrets, but as an information broker I'm under no obligation to protect Roger's," he smiled.

After a moment of hesitation, Dorothy entered and with stilted yet jarringly fluid motion sat on the couch. "What do you know about Roger?"

"One thing at a time Miss Wayneright," Big Ear purred as he sat in an opposite chair. "We still haven't discussed the matter of payment. I'm not in the habit of giving away information for free."

"I don't have any money," she began.

"And in this office, I only accept money for revealing information _to_ my patient _about _my patient," he finished, "not about others. It doesn't pay to mix my two worlds too much. No, I thought we would call it even if you open up to me and allow me to evaluate you. Who knows? You might learn some things that you didn't know about yourself."

"Very well," the girl agreed solemnly. "What do you want to know?"

* * *

_Paradigm City is a mess these days. It's been hit by crime, corruption, aerial bombardment and megadeus attacks. The institution set up to deal with these threats is Paradigm City's Military Police._

In Colonel Dastun's office, the grizzled officer was sitting behind his desk while Roger Smith was lounging in a chair before it. "Elias Browning almost didn't show up to my change of command ceremony," Dastun muttered. "I didn't think he would. I had to pick him up for going AWOL myself. Nobody wanted to go get him for me."

"That's hardly surprising," Roger snorted. "His brother Enoch _is_ the chairman of the Paradigm Corporation."

"Yeah, I gotta tell you Roger, Nucky and his boys picked the Military Police clean," Dastun sighed. "Almost every senior officer was let go. I hired back as many as I could, but not all of them could be found if you know what I mean. Our budget's been slashed. I don't think Nucky wants to finance the group whose job it is to put his pals in organized crime behind bars, and don't even get me started on the state of the evidence rooms."

"Sorry I got you your job back?" Roger asked the newly restored commandant of the Military Police.

"No, I'm sorry Beck and Browning ever took over Paradigm," Dastun grimaced. "I miss the good old days when Gordon Rosewater was in charge. The Military Police was something to be proud of in those days."

"It still is," Roger assured him. "Now that you're back you're purging it of all the corrupt elements. You may be understaffed but consider yourselves an elite unit."

"Tell me about it," Dastun snorted. "We're just a regiment. There's no need to promote me over colonel, there isn't enough of us to form a brigade."

"Speaking of the good old days, any luck digging up information on Roland Knight?"

"I had to dig way back in the files to find anything at all," Dastun shrugged. "No birthdate, no death certificate, no address, no tax return, bank account transferred to the corporation thirty-six years ago, nothing. This guy really knew how to make himself disappear. Of course, thirty-six years ago that was nothing special."

"There's _nothing?_" The disappointment in Roger's voice wasn't subtle.

"Almost nothing," Dastun corrected. "It seems that shortly after the Military Police was formed there was a special protection detail for Mister Knight. I managed to find a schedule that indicates a possible address."

"Did you check up on it?" Roger asked.

"Nope," Dastun smirked. "You got me my job back and I've been busy laying off corrupt cops ever since. Besides, I get the impression that this is something you want to do yourself, am I right?"

"Only if your lead pays off," Roger smirked back.

* * *

_In this city, there's no point moaning about what you've lost in the past, even if you can remember it. The smart thing to do is try to heal and rebuild and be ready for any opportunities that will pop up in the future._

The clock on the wall indicated that time had passed since Dorothy had entered Big Ear's office. She had shared a number of confidences with him as well as some insecurities but the old man wasn't finished digging yet.

"Miss Wayneright, based off your perception of that dead girl's Memories, would you describe the original Dorothy Wayneright as a happy person?" the old man asked as he lounged in his chair and checked his notes.

"I don't know what you mean," the girl replied from the couch.

"Did she have a high opinion of herself?"

"She knew her limits but I believe that yes, she was generally happy with herself."

"Then why aren't you?" he asked pointblank as he looked up from his notepad.

"Excuse me?"

"Miss Wayneright, based off what Roger's told me and the time we've spent together I'm under the impression that you're looking for excuses to punish yourself," the old man gently scolded. "You're looking for justifications not to allow yourself happiness. You're digging for reasons why you can't be with Roger when you obviously wish you could. I don't understand why."

"Do you think it is proper for a human to have relations with an android?"

"What I think is irrelevant," the old man deflected. "The question is why don't _you_ think so? You told me Roscoe Fitzgerald married a human and his wife loved him until the day he died. I'm surprised that you don't see that as an opportunity."

"It wouldn't be fair to Roger to stick him with an android when there are plenty of human women who would be good for him," Dorothy insisted blankly.

"Roger's met the right woman several times and he's always let her go," Big Ear told her. "You're the first one he let move in with him since I've known him. You're cooking and cleaning for him like an overworked housewife anyway so I don't see what the big deal is. Didn't Roger show you that what happened to your father and what the white megadeus did wasn't your fault?"

"Yes, he did."

"So why are you actively sabotaging yourself?" the old man shrugged. "You told me that Roger asked you, no _demanded_, that you be selfish once in a while and stick up for yourself. Why aren't you in this case?"

The drive in Dorothy's head whirred quietly. "I don't know," she admitted.

Big Ear nodded sadly. "It's all right Miss Wayneright. I see this all the time in humans. Feelings are like that. An emotion, even a negative emotion, that you've lived with for a long time can be hard to get rid of. You get used to it; it becomes a part of you. It's like an old ugly chair that's gotten comfortable because you've sat in it so often. Even though you have to get rid of it, it's become hard to let go."

"So how do I stop doing this?" Her soft calm voice sounded slightly melancholy. "It's as if I've programmed myself to be miserable."

"The first step is realizing you're doing it in the first place," the old man informed her. "The second step is harder: actively making an effort to break out of the prison you've built for yourself. Let's face it: It's going to be especially hard for you because you've allowed your neural net to develop so it's natural for you to interpret emotional stimuli as fear, depression and self-loathing. You need to experience something else or you'll forever filter your sensations through those dark emotions. I recommend making an effort to expand your emotional input to include as many different kinds of positive feelings as possible."

"I don't understand," she protested flatly.

"Perhaps I should use an example," the old man suggested. "Excitement can be a delightful thrill but let's face it: Miss Wayneright, nine times out of ten when you personally feel excitement, what sort of circumstances are you experiencing?"

"I usually feel excited when I'm exposed to danger; I'm often afraid," she admitted, "but I never allow that sensation to control my reactions…"

"Yes Miss Wayneright, I understand," he interrupted, "but there are other kinds of excitement you know."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know, anger, extreme joy, strong anticipation, any intense emotion can be exciting you know," he shrugged. "The chills and thrills of romantic love can be quite exhilarating. On the topic of your passions, let's take a look at your relationship with Roger. You've both admitted to being in love with each other, but still won't commit, why not? Do you feel that he isn't the right man for you?"

"He is the only man for me," Dorothy retorted flatly. "I love the same man the last Dorothy did. I have no choice."

"Is he the same man the human Dorothy knew?"

"He is close enough," Dorothy replied stoically. "I have no choice but to love him. I can't imagine giving myself to anyone but him. My… involuntary subroutines don't activate for anyone but Roger."

"So why are you pushing him away?" Big Ear asked. "He sounds like your best chance for happiness. What's wrong with him? Is he not into robots?"

"No, he's willing to give me a chance; he's already admitted that he loves me."

"So what's the matter? Is he a terrible kisser? Does he have bad breath?"

"I wouldn't know," she admitted. "I can't really taste anything and my sense of smell is only good as a smoke alarm. As for his kiss, it activates subroutines and sensations that I can't control. A number of involuntary programs are activated that are humiliating, but fortunately don't run for anyone but Roger."

"Why?" Big Ear shrugged. "What makes them so embarrassing?"

"They are residual programs causing the sensory and cosmetic hardware I possess to activate without my consent."

"What does that mean?" Big Ear shrugged again. "You'll have to excuse me, Miss Wayneright; I'm a psychologist, not a computer programmer. My knowledge of android physiology is limited."

Dorothy closed her eyes and lowered her head. "His kiss, his touch, they make me want to… They stimulate my… A long time ago before the world lost its Memories, mankind built androids that looked and felt just like human girls."

"Really?"

"What do you suppose their purpose was?" Dorothy's speech was becoming sharper, more clipped. "There is only one reason why an android would have the hardware and software I have installed. For the purpose of… I can't say it."

"There are other possibilities," Big Ear offered.

"Like what?" Dorothy's flat emotionless voice was good for conveying anguish.

"Roscoe Fitzgerald was an android wasn't he?" Big Ear shrugged. "I'd be surprised if he didn't have relations with his wife Kelly. Are you going to tell me his ability to love her romantically meant he was designed to be a plaything? He was one of the founders of Paradigm, an executive and a senator. Are you saying the whole time he was some kind of toy? That's ridiculous. Just because he had the ability doesn't mean he was limited by it. He was created to be everything a man could be, the whole package, nothing left out. He made himself a success and got everything out of life that a man could expect, more than most of us get. Granted, he had to hide the fact that he was an android but everybody has secrets. I think you're being grossly unfair to yourself by being ashamed for having the opportunity to love someone the same way as every other girl in this city can. You're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous," she repeated.

"Yes, the ability is there, but that doesn't mean there's anything inherently shameful about it," the old man lectured. "Listen Miss Wayneright, _everyone_ is ashamed of their body. It's not just you. There's no need to berate yourself more than everyone else does. That capability is simply an option you can take if the opportunity arises. You're under no obligation to use it or to conceal it any more than what's appropriate. That ability is yours and belongs to you just like it belongs to every healthy human being in this city and you can choose whether to exercise that ability or not. You don't have to be ashamed of your body."

"Thank you."

"In the meantime, what's keeping you apart from Roger? If you've both admitted your feelings for each other it sounds like the hard part is over."

"Roger loves me but doesn't want to," she confessed. "He feels like he's taking advantage of an underage girl who's been abused and can't handle a romantic relationship. I love Roger but don't want to, because he deserves someone better, someone human. He deserves someone perfect who isn't damaged."

"Dorothy, there _is_ no one who is _perfect_ for him," Big Ear informed her. "Sooner or later if he doesn't want to be alone he's going to have to settle. Any reason why he shouldn't settle for you?"

"Why do you think he should settle for _me_?" she asked.

"The real question is: Why do you think he shouldn't?" Big Ear shrugged. "If you don't think you can love anybody else but him I don't understand why you're pushing him away. Even if you could I wouldn't say no to a guy who's willing to love a girl who weighs two hundred and eighty pounds."

"Why do you think I'd be better for him than a human girl?"

"_I_ don't," Big Ear shrugged. "_He_ does. He's met lots of girls, Miss Wayneright, even some who'd make better wives than you, but he's never let them get under his skin the way you have. Right or wrong it's you who holds a special place in his heart. If you feel the same way about him then maybe you have a chance. He's not going to end up with the perfect girl Miss Wayneright, because this isn't a perfect world. Instead of gambling that he'll get the one who's best for him in the end maybe you should make sure he ends up with the best he can get."

Dorothy's drive could be heard whirring in her head.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next:_ _Dressed to be Killed_


	3. Dressed to be Killed

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 38

KNIGHT AND DATE

_Chapter Three: Dressed to be Killed_

_In this city, there's no point moaning about what you've lost in the past, even if you can remember it. The smart thing to do is try to heal and rebuild. Since you can't regain the past you have to plan for the future._

Two hours later, Roger walked into the front lobby of the Baxter Building. He spotted Dorothy exiting an elevator and smiled in relief. After Beck's robots attacked his home months ago he always felt anxious leaving her alone.

"So how do you think you did?" he asked as a greeting as he went over to her. "I know you passed but how high do you think you scored?"

There was a pause before she spoke. "Roger, do you think I need therapy?"

"Is there anybody in this city who doesn't?" he snorted as he maintained a façade of nonchalance. Inside he was concerned, but he was also relieved. Dorothy wasn't an unfeeling robot; she was a broken bird, a fragile flower who had been hurt almost from the moment of her creation. Her mask as an unfeeling robot was just a disguise for a girl who had been hurt so badly that she didn't feel safe enough to reveal her feelings.

"Roger, last week you demonstrated to me that my father's death and the destruction Big Fau caused wasn't my fault," she said as people walked by them as they entered and exited the lobby, "but for some reason I still have this sensation of guilt. I still have a feeling of self-loathing even though there's no cause for it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Roger replied as they moved a few steps to the right so they wouldn't block the way between the doors to the street and the elevators.

"Apparently my feelings of doubt and self-hatred are like your fashion sense," Dorothy said. "Even though you know it's not always appropriate to dress like a mortician, you feel comfortable wearing the same black suit day after day and you just can't help yourself."

"Ow," Roger smiled. "I always thought my suits were professional and stylish."

"And I thought my feelings of guilt and inadequacy were justified," Dorothy countered. "I can't speak for you, but I intend to _fight_ my personal demons. If I don't assert myself now, I'll be forever in a state of discouragement. You're right, Roger. That's no way to live. I have a choice and I need to take it."

"That's great Dorothy," he congratulated. "So what are you going to do?"

"To begin with I'm going to take up the violin," the girl decided. "It's because of the original Dorothy's Memories that I can play the piano but if I can learn how to play a new instrument it means I can change. I can grow beyond the sum of my parts and be more than a product of my father's genius and that dead girl's Memories. I can be my own person."

"Good for you."

"It will also give me the courage to deal with some of the," she paused briefly, "more personal features of my design."

"More personal features?" Roger repeated with a coy grin. "What kind of features are those?"

"Features that should be of no interest to a lecherous louse like you," she said as she abruptly started for the street. "We need to stop by Idres on the way home. The dress that Norman and I had made for me is finished."

"The women's clothing store?" Roger asked as he followed her. "That's the most expensive one in the city! I doubt that even Blum's sells more expensive clothes! Besides, I've got a lead on Roland Knight I'd like to follow up."

"You promised me a date, remember?" Dorothy reminded him as they pushed their way out the revolving door out to the street. "We still haven't gone on it but if you think I intend to go out wearing the same old dress you are sadly mistaken. I dress like the undertaker's daughter because I'm in mourning. I have no intention of doing so while trying to 'live'."

At that moment, the girl was in the crosshairs of a rifle scope. The crosshairs moved from the Dorothy Wayneright to Roger Smith. On the roof of the building across the street from the Baxter Building the rifleman looked up from the scope and made a decision. "Hold still," he whispered. "Not so fast."

Back at street level Roger and Dorothy had no idea of the danger they were in. "Gosh, that date, it completely slipped my mind," Roger winced. "How could I forget something like that? I was all set to follow up on that lead too."

"Very well Roger, if you don't think that I'm worth it I quite understand," she said stoically. "I'm only an android and I'm sure my hopes and dreams don't matter."

"Okay, I give," he smirked. "It'll be fun watching you play dress up. I guess I need to spend some time in the normal world or I'll end up in a rubber room with a box of crayons. Roland Knight has waited over thirty years; he can wait a little more. By the way, how long are you going to play the 'only an android' card anyway?"

"As long as it works Roger," she replied without the slightest trace of guilt.

"What's that on your face?" Roger frowned as they stopped at the end of the block and waited for the light to change. c

"What?"

"That glowing red dot," he frowned. "It looks like a—Dorothy get down!" he shouted as he tackled her to the sidewalk.

The window on the ground floor of the Baxter Building shattered as a ballistic crack was heard. From underneath him Dorothy spoke. "Roger, are you…"

"Run! Hurry!" he cried as he pulled her to her feet. "Quick! This way!" A chunk of brownstone belched off the edge of the building as they turned the corner to get out of the line of fire.

"Somebody's trying to kill us!" Roger declared as they quickstepped down the street. "They've probably got an ambush waiting for us at the parking garage too," he added as he activated a stud on his wristwatch. "I'll bring the car to us. Until we know who's after us we're sitting ducks."

"I think I know who's after us," Dorothy announced calmly.

"What?" he blinked as he looked at her. "Who? How do you know?"

"Angel warned me that there are people who will stop at nothing to keep you from finding Roland Knight," she said calmly as they entered a crowd who were crossing the street using a crosswalk. "She didn't say so but I think she was referring to the people she used to work for, the Union."

"The Union?" Roger winced. "I guess it makes sense. They've been quiet since the attack on Paradigm. I just assumed that the attack on the city exhausted their budget and they didn't have the resources to follow up."

"That, and the military police picked up almost all of their agents but Angel," Dorothy added.

"Since when does Angel talk to you and not me?" he asked with a hint of jealousy.

"Since when is it your business Roger Smith?" the girl retorted. "The results of my Rossum Evaluation may not have arrived yet, but I'm still old enough to have a few girlfriends."

"That girl is trouble and danger follows her every move," Roger warned her. "I want you to stay away from her for your own safety."

"I remember when _I_ was saying that to _you_," the little android retorted dryly. "You didn't listen either as I recall."

"And we all know how that turned out," Roger snorted.

"It wasn't entirely her fault," Dorothy assured him stoically. "All three of us are disaster magnets. People will always be after us. That's why we have to live life while we can. Have you made reservations for our date Roger?"

"Unh, our date," Roger groaned as he shook his head. "I guess our date is going to have to wait Dorothy," he sighed as his long black Cadillac drove up to the curb. "Until we can find out who's after us having fun is going to have to wait."

"No," Dorothy said as she walked around to the passenger side.

"No?" Roger repeated as he got behind the steering wheel.

"No," Dorothy affirmed as she sat in the passenger seat and shut the door behind her. "I've waited too long to live my life. We're going on that date. We deserve to go dancing before the worst happens."

"The worst isn't going to happen, Dorothy," Roger assured her. "Not if we investigate and find out who's…"

"We're going on that date," she said flatly.

"Dorothy," Roger said sternly. "You're being unreasonable. We have to postpone it. Someone's after us…"

"Someone is ALWAYS after us!" she shouted in a shrill voice. There was no warning. One second she was quiet and deathly calm and the next she was screaming at the top of her artificial lungs. "There is _always_ someone trying to kill us Roger Smith! Or trying to kidnap us, or trying to hurt us! I don't care anymore! Sooner or later one of them will succeed and I want to go on a date before that happens! So go to Idres, pick up my dress and make sure you've got a tuxedo for Friday night, or I'm getting out of this car and walking right back into the line of fire and letting them kill me!"

As suddenly as her outburst had erupted, it was gone. Dorothy was sitting as still as a mannequin staring straight ahead not looking at him like she often did. There was no sign aside of Roger's ringing ears that her tantrum had even happened.

Roger stared at her with his mouth open for almost a minute before he frowned and put the car in gear. "Fine," he muttered. "Idres it is then."

* * *

Roger hadn't been there when Norman took Dorothy in for her measurements last week. He'd been with his old friend Colonel Dastun making plans to get him reinstated. Now that Dastun was in charge of Paradigm City's Military Police again Roger had originally figured it wouldn't hurt to relax and take it easy for a day or two. The sniper who shot at them indicated that he was wrong. If Dorothy was right the Union didn't want Roland Knight found. If Dorothy was wrong Enoch Browning wanted Roger Smith out of the way. Either way, he was still at Idres, picking up a dress for Dorothy. Talk about whipped.

It had been a while but Roger could still handle taking a girl to a women's clothing store. He knew how to smile politely, discreetly almost-flirt with the ladies working there and wait without looking bored while Dorothy changed into her new dress. Norman had done the hard part by going to Idres last week and helping the little android choose the fabric and style. Roger just had to wait for a few minutes while Dorothy tried it on.

He laughed to himself while he realized that even with an assassin after him he could probably go shopping for shoes with Dorothy and still keep smiling. Was he really that smitten? Just how hard was he falling for a girl who was an android anyway? It was so heartwarming watching her grow and recover from the ordeals she had endured for the last two years that he couldn't imagine being truly bored right now.

"Roger?" Dorothy's quiet voice was shy as she emerged from the dressing room in a lavender short sleeved dress with a low neckline, a high waist and a skirt that didn't quite cover the knees. Despite the short skirt and the daring (for Dorothy at least) neckline the dress still had an air of respectability thanks to the padded shoulders and the lapels framing her décolletage. Roger had to hand it to her. She had chosen a dress that flattered her pert little body yet still managed to convey a sense of feminine innocence. "What do you think? It's not too much?"

"I think it looks great," he admitted, "but of course everything looks great on you."

Dorothy fixed him with a blank look. She didn't blush or gasp, or show any sign of surprise, but she did appear to be speechless.

"I'm sorry," Roger smiled. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"I'm not embarrassed," she insisted.

"If you want a critique on the dress it's quite stylish," he assured her. "It flatters your figure and makes you sophisticated. You need the right shoes to go with it, and you need some jewelry."

"I've already got the shoes, and Norman's found me other accessories," the girl informed him, "including jewelry."

"Ah Norman," Roger laughed. "What would we do without him? If he wasn't here we'd probably be dead."

At that moment the window broke and a large gunmetal sphere with a lit fuse flew into the store.

Without a word, Dorothy picked Roger up and ran outside. She jumped over a large black metal box parked at the curb and crouched behind it as glass and shrapnel flew out of the store.

"Th-that was quick thinking," a shaky Roger admitted as she stood up and set him down. How humiliating! She had carried him in her arms like he was a damsel in distress!

"I'm not going let them ruin this dress," the android insisted coldly.

For a split second Roger wondered if it would be wiser to fear Dorothy more than the people trying to kill them.

"I'm glad you like the dress Dorothy, because returning it might be a challenge right now," he quipped as he looked up and down the street.

"Roger," Dorothy had walked around the large metal box to the side that was nearest the curb. "Come here. There's something you ought to see."

"Hm?" Roger followed her and frowned when he saw what she was pointing at. Somebody had spray painted graffiti on the side. Printed in large blocky capital were the words 'DON'T LOOK FOR ROLAND KNIGHT IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.'

He frowned as he pulled a small handheld device out of his pocket. "Get in the car," he ordered as he pushed a red button. The metal box unfolded itself to reveal Roger's long black Cadillac. At least in this form, it wasn't marred by graffiti.

"What are you going to do?" Dorothy asked once they were driving down the street towards home.

"I'm going to ask Big Ear if he knows who…"

"No," she interrupted him. "You're going to do as they told you. For right now, you're going to stop looking for Roland Knight."

"Are you kidding?" he sneered. "That's two attempts on our lives in one day! At this rate, we won't even make it to Friday night! How do we know they'll miss next time?"

"The instructions they gave us was to stop looking for Roland Knight," the girl responded while keeping her eyes glued to the road. "That implies that if we stop looking for him, they'll stop trying to kill us. It seems reasonable to take them up on their offer."

"That isn't an offer, that's blackmail," Roger snorted. "And anyway, who says they won't keep trying? If we found Knight we'd find out why they were trying so hard to kill us."

"Then they'd be trying to kill us for knowing too much," Dorothy finished. "It seems to me that our best option is to stop looking for him and start the search again once the heat's off."

"You're just saying that because you don't want our date canceled."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong, just biased." When they stopped for a traffic light she turned her head and stared at him. "Please Roger; don't I deserve a moment of happiness? I've lived my entire life in fear and self-denial. Can't I have my wish fulfilled before it's too late?"

He looked back at her and gasped. Her eyes weren't mysterious and unreadable like they always were. Now they were sad and lonely. He gulped, as he felt his fear and anger draining away. "I can actually tell what you're feeling," he said gently. "How come you're letting me in now when you didn't earlier?"

"I didn't want you to fall in love with an android Roger," she replied sadly. "You deserve better than that. But you're so self-destructive there's no point hiding anything anymore. If I let you know that I have feelings, maybe you'll realize that you have them too."

He grunted as he looked away as he brushed a tear out of eye. "If you make me cry on the way home, I'm going to be plenty mad," he muttered as the light changed and he put his foot on the gas.

From a certain angle Dorothy almost appeared to be smiling.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Not News_


	4. Not News

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 38

KNIGHT AND DATE

_Chapter Four: Not News_

_In a city without memory, everybody's lost. The only thing you can do start over and try to find a new home, because you'll never find your old one. _

In the heart of the city, outside of the domes that protected the neighborhoods and estates of the rich, stood a spacious tower that was formerly a bank before the disaster that left Paradigm City without memories. Roger Smith had converted this building into his personal abode. The building was large enough to hide the Big O inside. It was built over the nexus of the underground transportation system that Paradigm had enjoyed until four decades ago. The suites at the top floor were decorated like a Victorian mansion; the roof was a patio that had tasteful sculpture and a garden.

"Welcome home Master Roger," Norman Burg, his personal valet greeted when they came home. "I see Miss Dorothy decided to wear her dress home." Norman Burg was a tall gangly old man wearing an archaic tuxedo with a starched collar. The elderly fellow's sparse white hair didn't cover his balding pate, but he did sport a magnificent handlebar mustache. A black eyepatch covered his left eyesocket.

"Something like that," Roger muttered as he removed his tie and handed it to the old man. "Her old dress was in Idres when it was blown up. The entire store's totaled."

"Blown up?" the old man repeated as Roger handed him his gloves. "By a bomb? At least your trip to a woman's store wasn't _boring_ sir," he winked cheekily.

"We had two attempts on our lives and a death threat," Roger grunted.

"Dear me, what did they say?" the old man asked as he helped Roger out of his jacket.

"Don't look for Roland Knight if you want to live."

"Well in that case sir, the solution seems obvious," Norman shrugged as he opened the closet to hang Roger's jacket on a hangar. "Stop looking for Roland Knight then. I understand he's been fairly well behaved for the last thirty-six years."

"Norman!" Roger barked. "Do you actually expect me to give up that easily?"

"No sir, I was just offering a suggestion," the old man replied innocently. "It seems to me as if you have to make a choice between your pride and your and Miss Dorothy's safety. As far as I know no one was using explosives on you until recently."

"He's right," the mechanical girl added. "If you weren't searching for a man who hasn't been seen in thirty-six years, none of this would have happened."

"You keep out of this!" Roger snapped.

"That's all right Roger," the girl replied. "If you don't really love me you won't care if I live or die. I'll go upstairs and burn this dress and then cry myself to sleep."

"You don't sleep!" Roger snapped.

"Yes, I do," the little android insisted. "Every night I shut down for an hour to cool off before I reboot. I just don't need as much sleep as you and Norman."

"Saying I don't love you is hitting below the belt!" Roger protested.

"And placing my life in danger to look for someone who hasn't been a threat to the city in thirty-six years isn't Roger?" she calmly retorted. "I'm beginning to understand why you're still single."

Roger's face grew red as his throat made strangled growling noises. "Norman!" he shouted, even though the elderly valet was standing right next to him. "Get me bourbon and give it a bourbon chaser! I need a drink."

"Really Master Roger?" Norman asked. "I was under the impression that you were making an effort to cut down on your drinking sir."

"Not as long as _she _lives here!" he snapped before he turned and marched away in a huff.

Dorothy grimaced and made strange gasping noises.

"Miss Dorothy!" gasped a concerned Norman. "Are you all right?"

"I've never laughed before Norman," said the slightly indignant android. "You can hardly expect me to get it right the first time."

* * *

After lunch Roger drove out to the working class bar known as the Speakeasy. Doctor Earhart, the man he called 'Big Ear', was sitting at a small table with his back to the wall reading the newspaper. "So how is she doing?" the older man rumbled when Roger sat down opposite. Both chairs were against the wall and faced the room, and that was exactly the way the two men preferred it.

"She's resolute," Roger muttered as he opened a can of beer and took a sip to avoid clenching his teeth. "Now instead of refusing to going on a date she _insists_ on going out. You've created a monster."

"Not one for moderation," Big Ear chuckled dryly. "Were those holes in the side of the Baxter Building meant for _you_?"

"Someone took shots at us while we were waiting for the traffic light," Roger grumbled. "If they weren't after me or Dorothy, they're after our twins. Any idea who doesn't want me to find Roland Knight?"

"Nucky Browning jumps to the top of the list," the old man mused, "_if _he knew you were looking that is. Your old buddy Schwartzwald, the man who used to be Michael Seebach, is another. He destroyed his old identity and burnt himself to a crisp to erase what he knew. It's possible."

"What about the Union?" Roger asked him. "Hear any whispers about them lately?"

"What? Those foreigners who managed to keep their existence a secret for most of our history before their unprovoked attacks on our city? No, they've been awfully quiet since their aerial bombardment of the city," Big Ear shrugged. "It's almost as if they had a grudge against Alex Rosewater rather than Paradigm City itself. After the black megadeus took out our illustrious chairman, they've been behaving themselves, mostly."

"Mostly?" Roger sensed there was more to it.

"I'd be lying if I said they haven't sent over any agents to replace the ones that were arrested before the attack," Big Ear admitted, "but just what they're after is a mystery to me. They sent out a few to grab what they could and feel things out but then they got really quiet after Zeke Crater disappeared."

"Zeke Crater?" Roger frowned as he called the crime boss who had been hideously mutated by his mad scientist ex-girlfriend. "The racketeer? I don't see the connection. How did _he_ fit in, did he smuggle them into the city or something?"

"I have no idea," the old man confessed. "It's just that after he vanished, they stopped looking for whatever they were looking for. Now the few still in the city my sources have spotted seem to be doing some kind of surveillance."

"Interesting," Roger mused. "Any idea who they're watching? Are they trying to sneak someone into Nucky Browning's staff?"

"No, Beck and Nucky's takeover of Paradigm upset things so much that they're back to square one in that category," Big Ear informed him.

"Then who then?" Roger asked. "An eccentric old scientist?"

"Not unless that scientist is Norman Burg," Big Ear rumbled.

"What?" Roger took off his sunglasses and turned to face the old man. "They're after Norman?"

"Personally I think they're after you," Big Ear told him. "Every time one of my sources have spotted them they're always somewhere in your vicinity."

"Dorothy was right," the younger man shook his head. "There's _always_ somebody after us."

"Feels nice to be wanted, isn't it?" the old man joked grimly.

"You think it would help if I backed away from the Roland Knight search for a while?" Roger sighed as he put his sunglasses back on.

"Heck if I know," Big Ear shrugged. "It's worth a shot. Roland Knight's trail would have to try hard to get any colder."

"Great," Roger groaned as he stood up and set a stack of twenty dollar bills on the table. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Anytime," Big Ear nodded as he covered the money with his newspaper. "Good luck, Roger. Watch your back," he added as he saluted the younger man with his drink.

* * *

Back at the white tower known as the Smith Building Dorothy was trying on jewelry and accessories to go with her new dress. "It figures that Roger would only have black pearls," she said as she modeled the dual strand necklace in the full length mirror. "The necklace really helps, I don't look so naked," she added as glanced down at the reflection of the lavender dress' plunging neckline. She pivoted to display her profile to the attentive Norman Burg. "You don't think these shoes make my rear end stick out?"

"Only in the most delightful way, I assure you," Norman's eye twinkled. "I must say, I feel like a father getting his daughter ready for a debutante ball."

"I suppose it is a debutante ball to a degree," Dorothy said as she frowned at the mirror, but of course her default expression was a subtle frown. "Passing the Rossum Evaluation means that I'm officially a person capable of making my choices and living with who I choose. I could even get married if I wanted to," she added quietly, "assuming anyone would have me."

"Now Miss Dorothy, what have we said about thinking positive?" Norman scolded as he wagged a finger. "You won't accomplish anything dwelling on the negative, you know."

"You're right Norman," the girl calmly agreed. "If there's anything this city has taught me it's that life is too short. I have to break my habit of seeing the down side of everything. I won't be wearing black on Friday and I need to learn to act like it before then. Where is Roger taking me?"

"He's taking you to the Cotton Club," Norman replied.

"Is he?" the girl replied dryly.

"Yes indeed," Norman nodded. "He put a lot of thought into it."

"I was under the impression that he hadn't even gotten around to deciding where to go, let alone making a reservation," the girl commented.

"Nonsense my dear," the old man replied. "He has simply had a lot on his mind, that's all."

"Yes, and it's a miracle with all that's been happening that he found time to plan our evening," the girl announced solemnly into the mirror. "Norman?" she said after a small pause.

"Yes Miss Dorothy?"

"Thank you."

"Think nothing of it my dear," the old man smiled. "Happy to be of service."

* * *

Soon Roger was back in Dastun's office at Military Police Headquarters.

"Back so soon?" Dastun quipped when the black clad young man was shown into his office. "What did you do, forget your hat?"

"No, someone tried to kill me," Roger replied.

Dastun's face was impassive. "And?"

"You need more?" Roger frowned.

"Sorry Roger but people trying to get rid of you isn't exactly _news_," Dastun shrugged. "With the hornet's nests _you_ kick over I can't even be surprised anymore. Any idea who it is?"

"I was hoping I could ask you," Roger shrugged.

"Offhand one of Nucky's gang jumps up to the top of the list," Dastun suggested. "Didn't his brother Eli swear revenge against you for costing him my job?"

"Yeah, but I convinced Nucky that if anything happened to me he wouldn't last a month," Roger shook his head.

"I doubt he told anybody that, including his brother," Dastun informed him. "If any of the punks under Enoch Browning found that out, his lieutenants would be gunning for you as a way to get rid of Nucky while maintaining plausible deniability."

"You sweep this office for bugs recently?" Roger asked nervously.

"Every two hours," Dastun informed him. "O'Reilly does it at a random time. After Eli Browning sat in my chair, I've had to have it fumigated. So why don't you think it's related to Nucky's people anyway?"

"Since I received a death threat saying 'Don't look for Roland Knight if you want to live,'" Roger muttered dryly.

"That's pretty specific," Dastun nodded. "That narrows it down. Nucky wouldn't like the reason for your sudden interest, after all."

"But how did he find out?" Roger asked. "Who knows about the search for Roland Knight?"

"Corporal Shepard does, but he thinks I'm looking for him," Dastun mused. "If the leak came from him, I'd be getting the death threats not you. Inspector O'Reilly does. You can't hide anything from _him_. But I can't imagine him ratting us out to the new chairman."

"Especially since he helped us out so recently," Roger nodded. "So who does that leave? The Union? Schwartzwald or any of the other crazies that Beck let out?"

"From what you've told me Schwartzwald wouldn't try to _stop_ you from looking," Dastun retorted. "He'd want to follow you so he could get ahold of Knight himself."

"You never know with that lunatic," Roger grunted. "One moment he's forcing you to see his version of the Truth, the next he's trying to kill you to keep it hidden."

"So we're back to square one," Dastun shrugged. "With you, there are too many possibilities to tell. Here's what I'll do for you, Roger. The military police's files are an open book to you. There's no place you can't go. I can't spare any men or resources to help you but you can read our mail if you want to. Maybe you'll find something that will point a finger in the direction of whoever's trying to get you."

"And while I'm doing that I can figure out an even bigger mystery," Roger sighed.

"What's that?"

"Figuring out where to go on my date where Dorothy will actually have a good time," Roger muttered.

* * *

As Roger drove away from the police station he noticed that he had picked up a tail. A taxicab was following him wherever he drove. Following another car without being spotted was difficult if your quarry was alert, particularly now. After everything that had hit Paradigm City in the past year, there weren't a lot of vehicles on the street these days. So was this taxi really following him or was it just a coincidence?

It was time to find out. Roger circled a block to see if the taxi would do the same. When it did, he pulled over and parked. When the taxi passed him by, the young negotiator didn't start the car. Instead he sat back and waited. Sure enough, his tail had circled the block a second time and was now coming up behind him. Looking into the rearview mirror, he saw that taxi pull over and park six car lengths behind Roger's long black Cadillac.

Roger got out of the car and started walking towards the taxi. The cab responded by pulling out from the curb and passing him quickly. As Roger stepped back to the sidewalk to avoid getting hit, he noticed the taxi's passenger ducking down and concealing his face. Somebody was following him alright. The question was, who?

Since the cab had passed him twice, Roger was able to memorize the cab number. He glanced at his watch. With luck he'd be able to get a description and possibly a name from the cab driver when he interviewed him later.

He grunted in frustration. Whoever they were, they were keeping tabs on him so they could strike when Roger disobeyed their ultimatum. But what if they would try to eliminate him anyway? What if they struck when Dorothy was with him?

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Date Night_


	5. Date Night

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 38

KNIGHT AND DATE

_Chapter Five: Date Night_

_In a city without memory, does romance really exist? Can anybody really get to know anyone when nobody knows themselves? _

Date night had come. Despite the fact that Roger had made discreet investigations, there was no further attempt on his life. It was now time to go out and take Dorothy to the Cotton Club.

As Roger waited in the downstairs parlor, he marveled at the wonder he was experiencing. Deep down, he really didn't think this night would ever come, a night where he could actually take Dorothy out for a night on the town. Why not? What was the big deal? This wasn't their wedding night after all. Had he really become such a recluse that he had forgotten how to have fun?

In any case, date night had come. The reservations were set, preparations had been made. Roger was wearing a tuxedo and looked pretty dapper if he did say so himself. He had seen Dorothy in what she was going to wear tonight but never all at once, with the entire ensemble assembled. He made a mental note to make sure he was impressed.

Norman came downstairs with a telephone on a tray.

The scowl on Roger's face could frighten a megadeus. "Norman I already told you, I'm not accepting any calls tonight. This better be important…"

"Not to worry sir, false alarm," the old man assured him. "It's only Miss Dorothy. She wishes to speak with you."

"Over the phone?" Roger asked skeptically as he took the telephone from Norman. "We're only going out, we're not getting married. There's no bad luck to see her before our date or anything." He put the receiver to his ear. "Hello Dorothy," he smirked into the phone.

"Hello Roger," Dorothy's soft voice greeted back. "It's almost time for our date and I don't see your car parked out in front of our building."

"You don't see our car parked in front of our building?" Roger repeated. "Is there any reason why it should be?"

"You're supposed to pick me up and take us out to our date," Dorothy replied as if it were self-explanatory.

"Yes…" Roger nodded slowly as he drawled into the phone. "And…?"

"And I expect you to pick me up like a girl you're taking out on a date rather than driving me out to the Cotton Club like a father driving his daughter to the school dance," Dorothy finished. "If we are serious about seeing each other in a romantic context we should do this properly."

Roger laughed into the phone. "You're right Dorothy, as always. But don't you think the extra step would expose us unnecessarily to whoever doesn't want me to find Roland Knight?"

"Anyone who sees us will know immediately that we're going out for a night on the town," Dorothy replied. "This way, you're making it obvious that you're complying with their demands. More importantly, you'll be treating me as an independent woman instead of as your live-in maid."

"Okay, I'll pull in up front," Roger declared. "See you soon." He hung up the phone, passed it to his elderly valet and rose to his feet. "I'll be ringing the doorbell in a few minutes Norman."

"I await your call sir," Norman smiled as he took the phone. "Here you go," he added as he handed Roger a bouquet of flowers. "For your date sir," he explained.

"Oh yeah, good thinking," Roger chuckled self-consciously. "We might as well do this right."

Outside the garage door opened and Roger's long black Cadillac drove out. Soon it was parked outside in front of the building and Roger was on the front step ringing the doorbell with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Norman opened the door and surveyed Roger with an appraising eye before greeting him genially, but distantly. "Why hello," he smiled. "You must be Dorothy's young man. Come inside, into the parlor. You can wait for her there."

"Wait for her?" Roger raised an eyebrow at that. "Isn't she ready?"

"You know how young women are," Norman said breezily. "Always fussing about with last minute changes. She wants to look her best you know."

"Yes, of course," Roger smiled wryly.

"Do you want something to drink Mister Smith?" Norman offered. "Or may I call you Roger?"

"Sure Nor… Mister Burg, knock yourself out," Roger smiled. "This is a nice place you got here."

"Yes, we're thinking of having the place redone," Norman teased. "The house is elegant, but a bit too somber. We're thinking of going more modern."

"I think it's fine the way it is," Roger sparred in a warning tone.

"Well to each their own," Norman shrugged. "I'll get you that drink now Roger." The old man must have prepared the drink ahead of time because he was back within moments.

"Sarsaparilla?" Roger asked in disbelief.

"I never serve alcoholic beverages to anyone who drives my little Dorothy around town Mister Smith," his butler informed him. "Impairs judgment you know."

"No… of course not," Roger smirked. "Got to watch out for your little girl after all."

"My thoughts exactly," Norman agreed.

"Any idea how long she will be?" Roger asked, although he was getting the impression that the android girl was already ready and was merely letting Norman have his fun.

"Who can tell young man?" Norman shrugged. "Young girls are always fussing at the last minute and adding a bit of lace. In the meantime I could entertain you with something more manly and show you my collection of firearms."

"Your collection of firearms?" Roger repeated in disbelief. He knew that Norman had enough guns to arm a platoon but the conversation was getting pretty bizarre.

"Yes, I'm quite the crack shot if I say so myself young Roger," Norman purred. "You never know when you have to defend your loved ones or their honor."

"Or their honor?" Roger repeated sarcastically. "Norman you're losing yourself in the role."

"It wasn't my idea Master Roger," the old man apologized. "Miss Dorothy deemed it essential that I be firmly identified as her father figure. It's unlikely this is going to work out otherwise."

Roger paled. It was true. For the first year after the android girl moved in, the young negotiator thought HE was the father figure and even now he still had vestiges of paternal feelings for her. The thought of how fragile and trusting young Dorothy really was made his stomach turn. "Yeah, she's right Norman. You have to be Daddy or this isn't going to work."

"Indeed sir," Norman agreed before clearing his throat noisily and getting back into character. "What time do you expect to bring my daughter home young man?"

"I don't know," Roger shrugged. "I'd say ten o'clock or thereabouts. Eleven at the latest. I'm not sure. Your daughter doesn't get tired like the rest of us you know."

Norman's eye became hard and steely. "Young man, I certainly hope that the fact that my daughter is an android doesn't give the impression that she isn't a person," he warned his employer.

"No, not at all," Roger backpedaled. "I only meant…"

"My little Dorothy is a very sensitive young girl, and the fact that she is an android doesn't change that," Norman interrupted. "Just because a great deal of metal went into her construction doesn't mean she's indestructible. She has more heart and soul than most people of flesh and blood. If you think you can…"

"No, no, I meant nothing like that!" Roger raised his hands in surrender and tried to not to start laughing. Norman was really hamming it up. "I just meant that she's younger than us and has a lot of energy that's all! It has nothing to do with being an android."

"So you say young man," Norman sniffed, "but you do bring up a good point. My little Dorothy is a great deal younger than you and somewhat naïve when it comes to men. I'm not entirely comfortable with allowing her to dally with a man of the world like yourself."

"I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman."

"I'm sure you will young man," Norman sniffed. "In the meantime, I expect her to have access to a phone…"

"Norman, don't embarrass me," Dorothy's voice came from the interior doorway. "You're being rude to our guest."

"My apologies my dear," Norman smiled, "but I'd hardly be a doting father if I didn't give your young man a hard time."

"I've had worse," Roger smirked. "Come in on Dorothy," he beckoned. "Step into the light and let me look at you."

"Very well," she replied as she stepped into the room. The lavender dress was no complemented by a high heeled shoes, string of black pearls, shear hose that was invisible in dim light and tasteful makeup that made Dorothy look more sophisticated than her normal childlike appearance. A hint of blush made her seem to simply have extremely pale skin, something natural for blondes and redheads. Eye shadow made her dark purple eyes mysterious and fairylike, and gave her more expression. Soft pink lipstick exposed what full kissable lips she had; her lips had always seemed thin when they didn't have any color. It was amazing how a new dress and just a little makeup had transformed dour drab Dorothy into the girl of his dreams.

Roger let out a low whistle. "Wow. You clean up nicely Dorothy. I almost didn't recognize you there."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment Roger Smith?" the girl replied as she clutched her purse.

"It's the nicest compliment I can give while we're in the house," Roger smiled. "Your father wants to show me his gun collection."

"Ha!" Norman laughed as he retrieved a wide brimmed hat and a fur stole from the closet. "Very droll sir." He draped the stole Dorothy's shoulders and attached the hat to her hair and the black barrette over her bangs using some hatpins.

"Norman, don't scare our guest away," Dorothy's voice was so calm and deadpan that it was hard to tell that she was remaining in character. "Roger is taking me out for the evening," she added as she put on a black pair of gloves.

"Yes of course my dear," Norman smiled. "Have a nice time."

"Thank you Norman," Dorothy replied as she extracted a compact from her purse to check her makeup. She tilted the hat and surveyed herself from various angles, turning her head right and left, lowering and raising her chin.

It was so smooth and natural that Roger shuddered. Dorothy was a natural for the glamourous aloof beauty without even trying. Her graceful, languid movements and her calm neutral expression made her look like a fashion model. Roger didn't know if she was putting on an act or not. When Timothy Wayneright designed her he outdid himself.

Dorothy noticed Roger staring at her and turned toward him. "Is there something on my face?" she asked calmly.

"What? No, nothing that doesn't belong there," Roger smiled and blushed. No wonder he had been dressing her up like a little girl. Dorothy could become sophisticated way too easy. All dolled up, she seemed just as dangerous as Angel right now. "I wouldn't change the way you look right now for the world," he added as he turned on the charm.

"What about the way I normally look?" Dorothy sparred.

"You normally look like a treasure too precious to ignore," he purred.

"You still managed to anyways," she pointed out.

"You were under my protection," he smiled chivalrously. "I never take advantage of a lady under my protection."

"So I've noticed," she remarked coolly. She sauntered to the door, moving surprisingly gracefully in her high highs. She must have practiced getting that walk down. "Norman there's no need to wait up."

"Not to worry my dear, I will anyway," the old man assured her cheerfully. "Standard protocol on a first date you know."

"So true," Roger grinned. "Will I be getting a kiss on this date?"

"Roger, you know a lady never kisses on a first date," she teased. "If you want a kiss tonight, you'll have to earn it."

"I can never resist a dare," the young man smiled as he took her hand and led her to the door.

"Have a nice time my dear," Norman waved as Roger walked her to the car. "And make sure you watch those hands and bring her home by ten young man."

"Don't bury yourself in the part Norman," Roger called back.

Soon Roger's long black Cadillac was driving down the street. "I'm not just flattering you, you look gorgeous Dorothy, and I don't just mean the dress," Roger gushed as he navigated through the damaged streets. "Your bearing, the entire way you carry yourself. It's a whole new you."

"It's our first official date as a couple Roger," the girl replied as she stared straight ahead at the windshield. "I want our date to be perfect."

"It's okay to have fun, you know," Roger teased. "You don't have to spend the whole evening worrying or putting on an act. You can relax and let your hair down. The entire point of this evening is to have a good time, not getting everything perfect."

"Getting everything perfect is how androids have a good time," Dorothy replied.

Roger laughed. She had an answer for everything.

* * *

Soon they arrived at the Cotton Club. Roger didn't like handing the keys to the parking attendant, but put on a brave face for Dorothy's benefit. That car was worth a fortune, and had enough gadgets and weaponry installed in it to arm a battalion. Then there was the security issue. What if someone decided to sabotage his car? Plant a listening or tracking device? Put a bomb in it? They had been receiving death threats lately. This could be the chance their enemies were waiting for.

As the parking attendant disappeared with his car, Roger gallantly offered his arm to Dorothy Wayneright. She took his arm in hers, and soon they were assaulted by jazz music.

Inside were other couples in formal wear, including women in evening gowns that were more revealing than Dorothy's lavender dress, yet Roger didn't bother to glance at any of them. A waiter, seated them at an elegantly set table and handed them menus.

"See anything you like Dorothy?" Roger asked as he opened his menu.

"Considering that I can't eat very much and don't really taste anything, that's a cruel question Roger Smith."

"I mean is there anything aesthetically pleasing that you want placed in front of you for appearances sake," Roger clarified. "You know, to blend in with the other diners. Didn't you once say that you wanted to do what everybody else did? You deserve to have something nice even if you have no real use for it."

"Thank you Roger," she conceded as she opened her menu. "For me to eat while so many people are going hungry seems wasteful. For now, I'll just have a salad and a glass of wine. You're going to have the steak, I presume?"

"I was thinking about it, why?"

"Fish would be better for you, Roger."

"Not with the amount of butter they'll put on it," he laughed. He gazed across the table at her. She seemed so small and delicate, so fragile. Hard to believe she was made of metal and could easily break his arm if she wanted to. She was such a proper little lady it seemed unbelievable that she was an android, calm voice and expressionless face notwithstanding.

"Is there something on your mind Roger?"

Whoops. Was he staring? Instantly, he covered by flashing a coy, subtle smile that had melted the hearts of many a woman in the past. Even though he barely moved a muscle, his body radiated confidence and sexuality. An inner voice reminded him that he should never try this on a girl as romantically naïve as Dorothy Wayneright; it would be like flattening an ant with a steamroller. He was pleasantly surprised that little Dorothy wasn't quite as unarmed as he expected.

"Is there something you wanted to say to me?" Was it his imagination or was her quiet, emotionless voice fifty percent huskier when she said that?

"I was just noticing how beautiful you look this evening," he smiled. "We should do this more often."

"Yes," she agreed. "Roger, which beverage had the most pleasant aftertaste?"

"The most pleasant aftertaste?" Roger repeated. "I never thought about it. Why do you ask?"

"In case you earn that kiss I want to be prepared."

"You little tease," he smirked. "You never stop do you?"

"I'm like a machine," she retorted.

Roger raised an eyebrow.

"It's all right if _I_ say it," she insisted.

"Yes it is," he smirked as he reached across the table and held her hand.

She graced him with a subtle smile in return. An extremely subtle smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Roger's smile became a lot less subtle, at least until he noticed he had a predatory grin on his face. Dorothy had encountered enough predators during her short and troubled life. She didn't need another one. Was he really turned on by the ghost of a smile? It was then he realized why he was so aroused.

She was breathing. She wasn't panting or hyperventilating, she was just breathing. Just like in the car the morning he drove her to her Rossum Evaluation. Thanks to the low neckline on her lavender dress, her respiration was easier to detect than normal. Had Dorothy been breathing like a human the entire time he'd known her? If so why was she so embarrassed when he noticed it that morning? If she only breathed on certain occasions, what did it signify?

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: __Our Song_


	6. Our Song

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 38

KNIGHT AND DATE

_Chapter Six: Our Song_

_In a city without memory, how can one tell what is real and what is illusion? In a city of amnesia a man can trust his senses more than his feelings. But what if those feeling awaken memories? How does he know those memories are his own?_

Roger and Dorothy's table had a good view of the dance floor. Norman had made the reservations well in advance and had spared no expense when it came to getting a good table. Roger looked out at the dancers as the band started another tune. "Do you want to get a dance in before I'm all full of food?" he asked her.

"I suppose I should," Dorothy replied dryly. "The human digestive process isn't very romantic. If I want you to be charming I'll have to hurry."

Roger smiled at her barb. She wasn't playing the 'only and android' card anymore. Now she was using the 'you're only human' jibe. That was a good sign. That meant her self-esteem was intact and healthy tonight. They should have done this months ago. "Madam," he purred as he rose to his feet and kissed her hand.

"Roger, you know that kissing isn't proper on a first date," Dorothy teased as he led her to the dance floor.

"A proper _lady_ doesn't kiss on a first date," Roger corrected. "A gentleman can reward her with a kiss on the hand all he wants."

"Reward me?" she asked as she they started dancing. "What for?"

"For making me look so good," he purred. "If a knockout like you is my dance partner, I must be quite a guy."

As he led her out on the dance floor he nodded to the conductor. Norman wasn't the only one who had made preparations. Roger had not only paid the Cotton Club a visit earlier, he had also paid off the singers and musicians. The brassy rhythm and blues song ended and the band started playing a slow romantic ballad. The lead singer sang a solo.

"_Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch, a long, lonely time_," he sang slowly and powerfully. _"Time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you… still mine…_? _I need your love,"_ he crooned. _"I need your love… God speed your love to me…"_

It was just the excuse Roger needed to hold Dorothy close. Their bodies swayed slowly and languidly with the music as the other dancers spun around them. It was hard to believe this was the same band that had been playing brassy and chaotic jazz when they had entered the club.

Now Dorothy was so close he could smell her perfume. It was a subtle fragrance of jasmine and rose petals, nothing like the overpowering aroma the last time Dorothy had tried on perfume. Norman must have helped her. Roger snickered to himself when he realized he had wasted the aftershave he had applied to himself. Dorothy didn't have a sense of smell, there was no point putting on all that cologne.

With his left hand clasping her right, and his right hand on her hip her little hand on his shoulder this was some of most intimate prolonged contact he could remember. He rewarded her with a twenty percent dip to separate their bodies briefly. He didn't think a full dip was a good idea with a two hundred and eighty pound girl until they had practiced. Thankfully she didn't lunge into it and end up on the dance floor.

When she returned form the dip he noticed that his arms were around her waist and hers were around his shoulders. Roger blushed. It was so high school, and a lot more intimate than a first dance should be. Rather than doing a proper foxtrot they were doing more of a hug and sway. How did they get that way? Had he changed things up or had she? Dorothy had previously been uncomfortable with bodily contact; she didn't want to remind him that she was an android. To be in such a slow intimate dance with Roger was a personal act of bravery on her part.

As the song reached its climax she moved in closer and pursed her lips as if expecting a kiss. Roger granted her one, although he restricted himself to bowing and kissing her gloved hand. "Thank you for this dance," he smiled as he escorted her back to the table. "It was a pleasure."

"Not at all Roger," she smiled politely as he pushed her chair in for her. "The pleasure was all mine." She was so natural, she was even breathing like a real girl.

As he sat down, Roger couldn't help but feel a little concerned over Dorothy's newfound daring and sophistication. Was this even the same android or did somebody slip a different memory drive into her head? Or was this her real personality, not the shell-shocked girl who was too frightened to reveal her true self? Was Dorothy really capable of relaxing that much and letting herself have fun? Did that mean that Roger could too?

Don't overthink it Roger, he said to himself. The whole point of coming here was to have a good time and keep yourselves sane. It's time to stop thinking and live in the moment.

It was then Roger noticed something that got him overthinking things again. Dorothy took a deep breath and looked around at the club's other patrons for a moment. Since when did she ever take a deep breath? Only when she was singing, but right now she was doing no such thing. No. As the musicians took a break he could hear her humming a tune. Where had he heard that tune before?

"That tune," Roger frowned. "Where have I heard it before?"

"It's the tune I hummed for Pero," Dorothy replied. "For some reason I remembered it again. I think I know some of the words too."

"Really? Sing them to me," Roger suggested. "We should have some time before the next set."

"All right. _Sometimes I feel so all alone_," she sang in her chair. "_Finding myself callin' your name…_"

"_When we're apart, so far away,_" Roger sang back. "_Hopin' it's me that you're thinkin' of…_ Whoa," he blinked in surprise. "Where did that come from?"

"How did you know the words to the song?" Dorothy asked. "They're a part of my Memories."

"I don't know," he shook his head to clear it. "The words, they just… popped into my head. It's like I knew them already."

"How can that be?"

"I don't know," he repeated. "When you were singing, it just seemed natural to join in. Do you think it has something to do with the time I was in a coma and you used Big O to make contact with me?"

"Roger you're doing it again." Dorothy scolded with a subtle frown. She was getting better expressing herself. Her scold almost sounded like a whine.

"Doing what?"

"You're searching for lost Memories when you should be paying attention to our date." Dorothy's disappointment seemed very genuine. It was hard to believe she wasn't flesh and blood. "Now you've got _me_ doing it."

"Yes but we're doing it together," Roger insisted as he smiled guiltily. "As long as we do it together, it doesn't matter what kind of activity it is. Especially if we're both dressed so stylish," he winked.

When he noticed the serious look on her face, he continued. "Look Dorothy, this isn't a perfect world so we both know that our first date isn't going to be perfect," he explained. "We'll just have to go on a lot of dates until we can build the memories we need to help us forget some of the old ones. In the meantime let's just try to have fun and be ourselves."

"But Roger, neither one of us know who or what we really are," Dorothy insisted.

Roger gasped as his face lost most of its color. Then suddenly he started laughing. Dorothy stared at him before smiling and covering her mouth with her gloved hand. Roger could hear a girlish tittering coming from her side of the table.

"You know, that's the first time I've ever heard you laugh," he smiled at her.

"I don't laugh very often," Dorothy admitted. "It's been so long since I laughed the last time I tried my hardware didn't respond properly and I had to tell Norman that I had never laughed before to save face."

"You told him you never laughed before?" Roger chuckled. "What did you do?"

"I made some strange gasping noises so that I sounded like a rocking chair with a bad cold," she replied.

"Really?" Roger asked. "What were you trying to laugh at?"

"I was laughing at _you_," she teased.

"You were?" he grinned bashfully. "How come?"

"Because you're so easy to annoy," she smiled shyly. "You get upset so easily. Everything has to be just so or you go to pieces."

"I guess I really am kind of an ogre aren't?" he smiled ruefully. "It's just that there's so much out there I can't control. Even the best negotiator can't bring two parties together if they don't want to come to terms. I suppose that's why when I'm at home I become such a tyrant."

"You're a very _benevolent_ tyrant," she assured him.

"Thanks," he shrugged as his grin became one of graceful surrender. "Maybe it's time I shared my power, and my responsibilities."

"You're always so serious Roger," she dryly teased.

"That's rich coming from you," he teased back.

"My father's been murdered and I've been scarred for life," she sparred. "What's your excuse?"

Roger raised a skeptical eyebrow as if to say 'Seriously?' "Would you like the list?"

"That won't be necessary, but you can see my point," Dorothy continued. "So many terrible things have happened to us in the last year that the memories of those events have become unbearable. We need to overwrite those memories with new ones."

"Did your therapist tell you that?" Roger asked knowingly.

"Perhaps," Dorothy conceded, "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. We need to do something fun, silly even."

"Like what?"

"Sing that song," she replied.

"What song?"

"The song in our memories," she replied. "The song that we've never heard but we can both remember. I think I could pick it out on the piano. The musicians are taking their break. I'm sure if you flash some money in the manager's face he'll be fine with it."

"You're out of your mind Dorothy," Roger protested good-naturedly. "We'd make total fools out of ourselves!"

"Isn't that the point Roger?" the little redhead retorted. "If we take ourselves too seriously we won't have fun. If we can't be brave enough to embarrass ourselves in public, how will we have the courage to let our guard down in private?"

"Wow," Roger murmured in awe. "When you spend all that time thinking on the ledge, you aren't just killing time are you? That was incredibly profound Dorothy."

"Thank you Roger," she nodded gracefully. "Was it profound enough to get you up on that stage?"

"Yes," Roger grunted in exasperation, but at least he was smiling.

It was only when they were up on the stage that Roger was having second thoughts. "How did I let you talk me into this?" he muttered as the little android played the opening bars on the piano.

"_Sometimes I feel so all alone_," she sang as her dainty white fingers played across the keys. "_Finding myself callin' your name…_"

"_When we're apart, so far away,_" Roger crooned back. This part of the song he knew. "_Hopin' it's me that you're thinkin' of…_"

"_Could it be true, could it be real?_" Dorothy's high pitched voice kicked in as she gazed at Roger with a warm affectionate expression. "_My heart says that you're the one." _

Roger found himself singing the words, despite himself. "_There's no one else, you're the only one for me,_" he crooned with newfound confidence. As long as he didn't stop to think he was doing all right.

Dorothy joined in and now they were both harmonizing together. "_Yes, this time my love's the real thing,_" they chorused. "_Never felt that love is so right… The world seemed such an empty place... We need someone we could give our all. Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and for…ever…_"

"Thank you've been terrific audience," Roger smiled into his microphone, "and you'll be happy to know that I'm not quitting my day job."

The duo was rewarded with applause and some polite laughter.

"Roger, you weren't _that_ bad," Dorothy dryly scolded as they returned to their table. "You actually did quite well."

"I'm always self-conscious whenever I sing in front of a crowd," Roger shrugged as the waiters set their orders in front of them, "particularly when I'm not sure if I even know the words, or the tune. Personally I think it's a miracle we did as well as we did."

"You seemed to know the words as well as I did," Dorothy murmured thoughtfully.

"Yeah, isn't that strange?" Roger mused as he took a bite of his meal. "You know, you first started humming it when you had that kitten. Maybe something in your memories associates that tune with love."

"How could that be unless…?" Dorothy's eyes narrowed. "Roger that was _their_ song."

"Hm? Whose song?"

"_Their_ song," Dorothy repeated. "That dead girl and the other Roger from forty years ago. They were in a relationship and that was _their_ song," she declared quietly. "Not ours," she whispered before she rose from the table and marched to the exit.

"Huh? Wait, Dorothy, stop!" Roger called as he got up and went after her. Dorothy's quickstep was surprisingly fast but even so the long legged negotiator caught up with her just outside the restaurant and seized her wrist. "Dorothy, stop! Where are you going?"

"It's not our song, Roger," Dorothy declared quickly but stiffly. "It's not our song. We're just trying to regain what those two people who died long ago had. We aren't building a relationship of our own we're just repeating what they did."

"Hey," Roger snapped. "Don't shut me out now. If you're going to get upset at something, do it right."

As if on cue, Dorothy's face contorted in sorrow and her body trembled. "It's… not our song Roger! It's _their_ song! It doesn't make sense but I hate them because it's not our song! It should be but it isn't! We never got a chance to have a song of our own! It's _their_ song! I hate them because it's their song…"

"Sh-sh-sh," Roger hissed as he put his arms around her and drew her close. "I never said it was our song."

"We don't have a song, do we Roger?" she sniffed as she hugged him and buried her face in his chest.

"Of course we do," he assured her. "The one we danced to earlier. It's the first song we danced to as a couple. _That's_ our song."

She drew back enough to look up at him. "It is?"

"Of course it is," he murmured. "We were just curious about that other song. We aren't bound to it or anything. The song that we danced to is our song."

"What's its name?"

"Unchained Melody."

"Roger it's perfect," the android girl said as she held him and laid her head on his chest. "Unchained Melody. We're free."

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: By the Light of the Moon_


End file.
